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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087089">The Ice Queen's Bodyguard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowQueenOfMyHeart/pseuds/SnowQueenOfMyHeart'>SnowQueenOfMyHeart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frozen (Disney Movies), Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Angst and Romance, Cassandra gets the crap kicked out of her a lot, Cassandra needs a hug, Chicago (City), Eventual Smut, F/F, Gen, Heartbreak, Honeymaren plays wingman, Implied Sexual Content, Lesbian Cassandra (Disney: Tangled), Lesbian Elsa (Disney), Lesbian Honeymaren (Disney), New York City, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Speakeasies, Useless Lesbians, Workaholic Elsa, anger issues, vaudeville</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:34:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowQueenOfMyHeart/pseuds/SnowQueenOfMyHeart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to put a painful heartbreak behind her, former vaudeville star Cassandra Knight journeys to Chicago to start anew. She becomes a detective and sets to work investigating a speakeasy in hopes of uncovering the gang supplying it. Turns out the organization providing the booze is not a notorious gang, but a surprisingly respectable business owned and run by Elsa Arendel dealing in Scandinavian cider and spirits. Cassandra catches the attention of Elsa, who decides to bring the woman in as her new bodyguard.<br/>But Elsa is not used to opening up to someone, and Cassandra has a painful past she wants to overcome. If the new boss wants to keep her bodyguard around, she's going to have to open her door - and perhaps give something Cassandra has been chasing all her life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anna &amp; Elsa (Disney), Cassandra/Elsa (Disney: Tangled), Cassandra/Rapunzel - unrequited, Elsa &amp; Honeymaren (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chicago, Christmas Eve 1925</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassandra was angry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that wasn’t necessarily new. What was new was the pain. She hurt all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had cuts and scrapes and bruises all over her body. Blood trickled down the side of her face and out of her lip, staining her suit that was torn here and there. The once fine jacket now a complete mess, her tie hanging loose and dangling in the breeze. Her hands kept clenching in fists, as much to ignore the pain as the biting cold that swirled around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she were in any rational state of thought, she would not dare be out in this weather. Chicago was a brutal city in more ways than one, and winter could claim a poor unfortunate soul who was not used to the wind whipping off the Lake plunging the air near arctic temperatures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Cassandra did not care. Not one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her anger was giving her just enough energy to avoid freezing to death as she trudged through the snowy streets, gritting her teeth as she staggered along, ignoring the incredulous looks from the few passersby who were out for one reason or another on this festive night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Merry fucking Christmas to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoved her hands beneath her armpits, hissed at the pain that seared in her chest, then dropped her arms to her sides and pressed on. She was a stubborn woman, not keen on showing weakness or being vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet, she had allowed herself to feel vulnerable. At least, that’s how she saw the whole thing. It was her emotions getting the better of her that led her to this walk of shame. Her inability to just keep her anger in check for one goddamn night.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They had it coming.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So what? She was supposed to be better than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Was I just supposed to let them carry on? Like it didn’t matter?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She argued with herself as she continued on, unperturbed by the gust of wind that blew along the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In her gut, she knew she had good reason to react as she did. But at what cost?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the side of her head as if to ward off a headache. Which was quite likely given her physical state. Though perhaps it wasn’t just the injuries…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra had failed. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears threatened to well up but she forced them back down; she would not allow herself to cry. She couldn’t. She had to be strong, just one more time. She needed to make it back, then she could await her judgment. The condemnation she knew would come. After all, she’d spent a lifetime trying to prove herself, to earn something that seemed to come easily to everyone else but not her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it really so hard? It was so unfair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But why should she assume she was condemned? That she would be cast out? This circumstance was hardly like the ones before. Yet Cassandra had years of experience to the contrary, providing an unending reminder of one painful truth…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one wanted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother didn’t want her. The orphanage where she spent much of her childhood didn’t seem to care much about her. Every job she tried to hold down didn’t want her to stay. Even… </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That had been a hard pill to swallow. And now this. It was just too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Step by step, Cassandra kept walking. It was all she could do.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>New York City, 1922</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“AND STAY OUT!” The red-faced man roared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NOT PLANNING ON COMING BACK ANYHOW!” Cassandra shot back as she barged out the door, throwing her uniform unceremoniously to the side and stomping out into the busy city street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated working in the textile mill, hated the conditions, and hated the bosses. The supervisor who had just fired her had found out the hard way that she, unlike most women in such a position, would actually hit back. He got too close; she gave a swift kick to his groin. It was well deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now she was out of a job, yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the last several years, Cassandra had struggled to find and keep a steady job in the bustling metropolis, filled with immigrants fresh off the boat and longtime natives hoping to make their mark on history. With no family to support her and no more help from the orphanage, she had to carve her own way in New York. That meant getting a cheap apartment with questionable accommodations, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And she had to get a job. Unfortunately, that meant dealing with low wage work and at times unsavory conditions. Whatever job she took, she did to the best of her ability. She was a dedicated worker and took pride in her ethic. Sadly, not many people really cared about her work ethic. Not when her attitude ran counter to the norms of the day when it came to how a woman should behave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All things considered, it wasn’t a shock that ‘ordinary’ people didn’t like Cassandra to begin with. She was hardly ladylike material: an orphaned girl with a preference for boys’ clothing and more ‘masculine’ hobbies. Even when she had matured, she stood out and didn’t hold back, either in her words or her punches. Because of her mouth and her demeanor, she could barely hold down a job for longer than a few months, and she was lucky enough to almost make it a full year at one old gig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But taking that ugly uniform off was the relief she needed. She had been looking for an excuse to leave the dreadful factory despite her best efforts to blend in, and the manager had given it on a silver platter. Tearing off the dress that she had forced on over her tunic and trousers felt like she was suffocating, on top of the heat of the place. Stepping out into the city, she could breathe once more. Cassandra jammed her hands into her pockets and strolled along down the street, passing people and the occasional motorcar. She had nowhere to be now that she was without work, so why rush?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did stop to pick up some food at a street vendor, then made her way to her apartment. Once inside, she sat down heavily and groaned, running a hand through her bob-cut black hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When she was only four years old, Cassandra’s mother had abandoned her. The few memories she had of the woman were… not pleasant. She distinctly had the impression that the woman who had brought her into this world saw her as no more than a nuisance or potential free labor, which meant basically a slave to her own mother. Fortunately, she didn’t have to endure that treatment too long. But it was long enough to leave a mark. Her resentment over being unwanted by her mother left her craving for someone to fill that void. And as she spent her childhood and adolescence in the city orphanage, that desire remained despite her ever growing attempts to bury the pain of her past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she resolved to carve out her own life, to make herself useful. She realized at some point that the societal dogmas on marriage and what ladies should do meant nothing to her - and that those of the other gender were, to put it generously, not worthy of her attention. She had quite a few things to say on the subject of men, and she usually did when provoked. But seeing as matrimony was not in the cards, she had to settle for wage labor. Not that she had a problem with working for an honest living. She didn’t really have time for friends, and work usually made the possibility quite remote.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This would be the part where I seek help from a friend...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then a thought popped into her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra glanced at a slip of paper that she nearly had discarded but held onto just in case. Turned out this was the time to make good on the offer written on that slip. She picked it up and read over the address. As much as she did not want to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now, she could certainly use a little sunshine - and </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>would definitely provide it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The drugstore was a hopping place with people coming and going for their daily needs or stopping for a while to have a caffeinated beverage and shoot the breeze. Cassandra did not care for such a social atmosphere, but it was Rapunzel’s favorite place to be and the location given on the slip of paper. So here she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry you lost your job,” Rapunzel said sympathetically as she took a break from her ice cream sundae that surely had way more sugar than the hyper blonde girl needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, it was inevitable,” Cassandra replied, waving her hand dismissively. She took a sip of her root beer. “Where’s the pretty boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name is Eugene,” Rapunzel pointed out with a stern look that lasted all of one second, “and he’s been busy working on an opportunity for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, really? And what might that be, Raps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra had met Rapunzel through Eugene. The man had been in the orphanage like Cassandra yet seemed to have a knack for getting into his own kind of trouble. Despite his thieving ways, he managed to clean up - just a little - and catch the eye of the young girl of a fairly well-off family in Manhattan. One day, Eugene had come around and annoyed the hell out of Cass, until Raps chided him and introduced herself. Something about her made Cassandra’s heart skip a beat, but she assumed it was just her smile that shone as bright as the sun on a summer day. Officially, Rapunzel and Eugene were just friends. Not that it mattered to Cassandra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or so she told herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he happens to have an old friend who is working in the theater district and might be able to help us get an act on Broadway.” Raps grinned as she bounced a little in her seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra paused and took this in. “Wait… what do you mean ‘get an act’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vaudeville!” Rapunzel exclaimed. “Eugene thinks I could be great doing some performances, maybe a little singing and dancing, he could do some bits, and-” she paused and gasped, eyes going wide before taking Cassandra’s hand. “Cass! You could be part of our show!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” Cassandra managed to speak as she was still processing the fact that Rapunzel was now holding her hand. She valued her personal space, but Raps seemed to have a tendency to push those boundaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you need a job, Eugene could use some work, and I could start making a name for myself! We could all do vaudeville together!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea of singing and dancing in front of a crowd was not at all appealing to Cassandra. People in general were not appealing to her. Perhaps she should have moved out to the countryside years ago, but she chose to remain in the city trying to scrape a living. And Rapunzel did have a point. She needed work, and if this idea actually came through, it could make her some steady money. Plus, she would be around a friend. That counted for something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just hoped she wasn’t getting into something she would regret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine. If Eugene can get you a spot to do a show, I’m in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rapunzel squealed and reached out to give her a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa! Personal space!” Cassandra leaned back quickly and put her hands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Sorry,” Rapunzel quickly backed up and just squeezed Cassandra’s hands. “Meet me at my house so we can figure out what sort of talents you have. And don’t be late!” She dropped a few coins by her finished sundae and skipped out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra sighed and turned back to her root beer. Aside from picking fights, she didn’t think she had much talent. But she didn’t have any good options, so she might as well make this one count.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chicago, 1922</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anna skipped along down the hall, having enjoyed the lovely spring weather. She was hoping she could drag her sister out to savor the daylight for once; she’d even snagged a box of chocolate to sweeten her offer. Literally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she approached her sister’s office, Anna ran into Honeymaren who was just leaving. The swift click of the door made her heart drop a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me she’s not locking herself in that godforsaken room again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honeymaren gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Anna, but the boss said-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, she doesn’t want to be disturbed,” Anna cut in, rolling her eyes as she let the box of chocolates fall to her side. She had heard those words far too many times over the last few years. Ever since their parents died, it seemed like Anna was left to her own devices while her elder sister focused on ‘business’, whatever that entailed. Truth be told, Anna did have a pretty decent idea of the family business, but she didn’t care much for the logistics of how it was pulled off. Things had changed with Prohibition, and so had her sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna wanted to blame the stupid amendment for taking her sister away, but she knew that wasn’t the culprit. It was the business set up by her father. He had done fairly well from what she understood, only now things were a bit more complicated. Nevertheless, the elder sister was determined to keep the legacy going. Even if it meant neglecting the only family she had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she likes being in that office so much, she might as well move her bed down there and save herself the trouble of ever leaving.” Anna glared at the door taunting her, as if to say she was not welcome and would never be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” Honeymaren offered, laying a comforting hand on Anna’s shoulder, “I know you don’t like this arrangement, but your sister is doing what she thinks is best for the family. You know it’s not just about you; there are a lot of people counting on the business to continue. Me and my brother included.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna sighed in defeat. “I know. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be. Just give her some time. She’ll come around someday.” Honeymaren began to escort Anna out to the patio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anna scoffed. “Hopefully before the end of the decade.” She opened the box and shoved a piece into her mouth. No point in wasting good chocolate. Too bad it was her sister’s favorite.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Showtime!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>New York City, 1923</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Cassandra agreed to join Rapunzel in her quest to do vaudeville a year ago, she never really expected things to take off the way they did. She was already hesitant to join when she had gone to Rapunzel’s home later that day, and knowing she would have to see and deal with Fitzherbert really did not make her feel any better. But after some animated discussion among Rapunzel and Eugene and even the parents (Rapunzel’s mother was quite enthusiastic about the idea and wholeheartedly supported them), Cassandra admitted it might be fun.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, they needed to determine what each could bring to a show. Rapunzel was willing to do any song-and-dance numbers as well as any acts to lift the crowd’s spirits. Eugene offered some comedic material and the sort of acts involving crowd interaction, claiming he was a natural charmer. Cassandra rolled her eyes at that and seriously doubted Rapunzel’s pretty boy would be that funny on stage, but she held her tongue otherwise. Eugene also mentioned that his theater friend, Lance - also an orphan and former thieving pal - might be interested in joining their routine depending on their success.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which left Cassandra’s contribution. Once put on the spot, she squirmed and suggested maybe something acrobatic with knives or swords. She had always enjoyed the feel of a knife in her hand, though seldom needed to use it against anyone. The idea didn’t land well, so Rapunzel asked if Cassandra could sing or dance. Cassandra initially denied any ability to do either, but after some coaxing managed to sing a little tune. And then another. Leaving everyone in that living room in awe at the natural talent in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so it was settled. Rapunzel and Cassandra would have a singing double act complete with costume and a little dancing while Eugene would offer up some comedy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first two months were hard. The trio started in small venues and had to hustle almost every night, dealing with sometimes lukewarm audiences who were more interested in the acts that followed or had gone before. Cassandra really didn’t like it when someone in the crowd would start demanding so-and-so comedian come back or for the dancing duo to hurry it up. Letting her frustration get the better of her, she sometimes snapped back and offered a biting remark like “Clearly somebody is ossified!” or “Your suit jacket is the joke of the night!” Trying to play damage control, Rapunzel would offer some sunny remark or slip into a happy little song that the crowd would usually know and sing along to. But after several incidents of Cassandra snapping at annoying audience members and Rapunzel playing a pollyanna, they began to realize that there was more to be had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, look. This town has enough singers and dancers as is, and no offense to you ladies but we need to find something to shake it up fast if we want to stay in business,” Eugene said after one particularly taxing night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know,” Lance began through a mouthful of turkey leg, “I’ve seen how Cassandra really gets in a lather when the crowd gets rowdy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, so I’m dragging us down?” Cassandra retorted, bristling a bit at what she thought was an accusation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no! I think you are onto something, especially with how Rapunzel is always Miss Sunshine over here.” Lance continued to eat and drink as the trio mulled over his advice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually,” Rapunzel began cautiously, “I have been wondering if we should expand our act.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eugene raised an eyebrow. “Blondie, you want to do your art stuff on the stage?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, we should go for a little more song and dance, BUT also include some witty humor between us and maybe the audience,” Rapunzel continued. “Lance has a point. Cass can spit out zingers almost as well as Eugene can…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...and I do enjoy trying to put a smile on people’s faces. Perhaps we should rebrand ourselves in a way that reflects that contrast and maybe even sell a whole new act. One where we don’t have to perform alongside half a dozen other artists.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment of silence passed as the group considered the idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going to need a stage name,” Cassandra interjected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eugene jumped in, eager to avenge his bruised ego. “I’m thinking: Blondie and the Dragon Lady. Or Miss Summer and Madame Ice Demon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra glared daggers at him. She was starting to wonder why Rapunzel even liked him. Sure, he seemed to make her laugh, but Cassandra didn’t find him all that funny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eugene…” Rapunzel groaned, feeling the anger radiating off her new best friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm all this talk about sunshine has me craving sundrops,” Lance said in a dreamy voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other three turned to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lance looked back. “As in the candy? Sundrops? I’m pretty sure they’re in some of the candy shops around Manhattan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rapunzel suddenly lit up. “Lance, that’s it! I can use The Sundrop as my stage name!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eugene smiled. “It fits you, Rapunzel. Bright and sunny…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And sickeningly sweet,” Cassandra teased good-naturedly, earning a pout from Raps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I guess that makes you…” Rapunzel tried to think up a name for Cassandra.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She never knew how it came to her, but something made Cassandra offer, “What about the Moon? Or something similar to it? I mean, if our act is going to be about opposites, then the Sun should be paired with the Moon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm cold and distant, sounds like you.” Eugene was being partly serious, then added, “But you’re also hard like a rock, and I mean that in a good way. As they say: whether the stone hits the pitcher or the pitcher hits the stone, it’s going to be bad for the pitcher.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra simply shrugged at his remark. He wasn’t wrong, and she liked the implication that she was a force to be reckoned with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rapunzel narrowed her eyes as she thought about Eugene’s words. “Moon… stone… wait! Moonstone! The Sundrop and The Moonstone: a Singing and Dancing Double Act!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After their debut as The Sundrop and The Moonstone, Rapunzel and Cassandra began to take the vaudeville scene by storm. No longer a supporting or filler act, they became top billing for the smaller venues out in the burroughs, spending a few months working around Brooklyn and the Bronx along with the occasional dash over to Manhattan. By the winter, they had secured contracts for shows in the heart of the city, the Theater District. Lance was very helpful in hooking them up at a nice theater and even jumped in to provide his own act to accompany Eugene’s filler bits. They would also bring in another artist or two just to fill out the show a little, usually some acrobat or illusionist. It was clear that the two ladies ran the show, and Eugene and Lance were happy to support.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The costumes were a saga unto themselves. At first, the women opted for flapper dresses, despite Cassandra’s discomfort with looking so girlish. But they needed the attention if they were going to make it big, so she swallowed her pride and objections. When they became The Sundrop and The Moonstone, the outfits became… a bit more risque. They decided upon a mix of classy and sexy, resulting in top hats and white shirts and tails combined with tights that showed off their toned legs. Cassandra was certain that the men who clamored in the front rows were not really at their shows for the songs, but Rapunzel seemed to enjoy the attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if she was being honest, she did like the costume. But not as much for herself as for what it did to Raps - the way it highlighted her legs that somehow kept making Cassandra’s eyes dart downwards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Cassandra did value her privacy and personal space, both of those things became very hard to cherish as her life became busy with practicing routines, bustling about a cramped dressing room with Raps, and sometimes getting rather close to her partner on stage. It was beginning to do things to her. She was starting to see Rapunzel in a way she had never really seen anyone else before. Although she may have had a fond look for a pretty lady or a handsome gal in the past, none left her heart stirring as much as the ray of sunshine that was her partner on vaudeville. Cassandra found herself smiling a lot more these days, and as the new year dawned and their career continued in full swing, she really did feel like the perfect compliment to the Sundrop, both on and off the stage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rapunzel was so bright and cheerful, smiling in a way that could make Cass lighten up even on her darker days. Her long blonde hair really did add to her whole “epitome of sunshine” persona. Sometimes, during her early days in the new gig, Cassandra would wish to just run her fingers through that hair. In time, Rapunzel was happy to let Cassandra brush out her hair as it required much more maintenance than the latter’s bob cut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra also liked the freckles dotting Rapunzel’s face. She would lie in bed thinking about counting those freckles with Raps in her bed… but that never happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What really left her with mixed feelings was sharing the changing room. That had been a constant pretty much since they began. A few gigs had them sharing a room with a bunch of other ladies, but once they got their own routine, they could afford the privacy of a room for just two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Cassandra quickly found out that Rapunzel </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t understand boundaries. At first, Raps would barge in when Cass was in the middle of changing, hastily covering herself for decency’s sake even if she wasn’t really naked. While Raps was sensible enough to use the curtain at times, there were those moments she would forget an article of clothing and dash out to get it, leaving Cass to stare dumbly for a second or two then shake her head and try to hide the slight blush in her cheeks. She may not be a professional artist, but damn it she needed to act like one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Except she did notice a couple times that Raps would also stare. And try to hide it. And that made Cassandra smirk with pride.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See something you like, Raps?” Cassandra asked one time in the spring as they were getting into their tuxes and tights. She had just removed her shirt and had a feeling Raps was looking at her chest or abs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Uh, I just…” Rapunzel blushed furiously as she slipped on her tights, then said in a quieter tone, “I’ve never seen a girl look as handsome as you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sent a shiver down Cassandra’s spine. “That’s… awfully sweet, Raps.” She was certain she was blushing all over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They proceeded to get into costume without further commentary on their bodies, opting to focus on making sure they had their routine ready.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chemistry on stage was truly beautiful. Cassandra and Rapunzel sang wonderfully together, whether it was silly ditties or songs of romance and yearning. They hammed it up with some quips and jabs, getting some good laughs from the audience with regularity. Cassandra didn’t feel too bad about possibly overshadowing Eugene’s role as the funny man in their little group; she was hoping her efforts would catch Rapunzel’s attention and maybe, just maybe, open up something more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the spirit of that newfound boldness, Cassandra decided to try one more trick for their act.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to throw in a little ‘male impersonator’ bit towards the end of our show,” she said one evening in November as they were unwinding from a successful night at one of the larger venues in town. “Just get in the full tux with pants, strut about a little, sing a song or two and end the show.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rapunzel was surprised at first, but as Cassandra explained her idea became more in awe at the prospect. “Ooh, fancy! And I would love to see you wearing a full tux.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! You just look so cute in your outfit on stage - wait, sorry, handsome…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The word choice did not escape Cassandra’s notice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...anyway, I’m fine with you adding that routine, Cass. Maybe I can have a little solo for myself as well! Perhaps I can open our act just with me on stage and greet the audience, then you can join me after I sing a tune. What do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds perfect, Raps,” Cassandra smiled softly. “And no need to rearrange things yet, we can manage that in the new year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eeee! My best friend is going to look so dapper!” Rapunzel squealing before rushing over to give Cassandra a bear hug which was reciprocated eagerly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had become comfortable enough around each other during the year to allow for hugs and other simple acts of physical intimacy. Seldom did they embrace like this, when they were half dressed…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra felt her heart skip a beat at the sudden sensation of how much skin-to-skin contact there was. She fought the urge to run her hands all over Rapunzel’s back, settling for just squeezing her close, which meant her brain focused more on certain… other parts pressing against her chest. As the hug lingered, she could smell the perfume on Rapunzel’s soft skin. It was floral, and it reminded Cassandra of the days when she would see Raps walk in with flowers in her braided hair, and how she wished to be the one placing those flowers in the golden locks. Cassandra’s breath hitched when Raps seemed to snuggle into the hug, but then she remembered to breathe like a normal person and smiled at how affectionate Raps had become.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they finally broke apart, Rapunzel took Cassandra’s hands and held them tenderly. “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me, Cass. I don’t know how I could have managed all this without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra dared to hope, to dream, just for once. Perhaps her little gambit about dressing as a ‘dapper gentleman’ might pay off. “It’s been quite a trip, Raps, but whatever comes next, I’m just happy to be doing it by your side.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Chicago, 1923</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the local shipyard, two men were unloading the last few crates from a cargo ship. Any passerby who was foolish enough to be out walking around the city in the middle of the night would have been suspicious of such activity. And for good reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I think that’s the last of them,” Kristoff groaned as he set down yet another heavy crate with Norwegian markings on the side. “Whew! You can almost smell the lutefisk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryder checked the inventory one more time, just to be sure. “Yeah, well, if the boss wants the goods brought in with pickled fish on top, then that’s how it’s gonna be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Kristoff replied, stretching his arms out. “It just really makes the boxes a lot heavier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sat down to catch a breather before they needed to repack the crates for delivery to the next location, to be further examined and distributed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryder checked off the last line and said, “Yep! That’s all of them. Looks like customs let us off easy this time.” He set aside the list and sat down beside his friend. “Never thought I’d be helping distribute Aquavit illegally in the Land of the Free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kristoff snorted. “Join the club.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat in silence, with only the sounds of Lake Michigan’s waters slapping against the hull of the ship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I… ask you something?” Kristoff said cautiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you ever regret… I mean, do you ever wish you weren’t doing this kind of work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryder thought for a moment. “Not really. I may not like how we have to do all of this underground, but for someone like me it’s just another way of trying to get by in this world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kristoff nodded. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what it must be like for you and your sister these days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, we get along just fine. And I don’t just mean our personal interactions,” Ryder added with a playful nudge. “We were lucky to be hired by the boss and to be compensated so well. I wouldn’t give that up right now for anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She is incredible,” Kristoff concurred. “She may be hard to read sometimes, but at least she looks out for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryder patted his shoulder and stood up, offering a hand. “Come on, we better get these crates loaded so we can drop them off in time for distribution. I don’t want Maren to give me crap about being fifteen minutes late again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you if she does,” Kristoff laughed as he took the proffered hand, stood up, and helped transfer the heavy crates full of precious cargo.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for the reviews so far! I shall do my best to keep updating through the holidays.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cassandra has it all. Almost...<br/></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>New York City, 1924</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they incorporated Cassandra’s male impersonator act as the closing part of their show, The Sundrop and The Moonstone became the talk of Manhattan. Cassandra began feeling like she was putting on the ritz; she was making more money than any job before, and she looked fabulous doing it. As the new year began in earnest, she was far more comfortable in the “top hat and tights” getup that she donned with Raps for the early part of their act, knowing that now she got to slip into pants and close out the show with a couple of husky-voiced songs and a little flirting with the audience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra’s choice of attire for her male impersonator role was of a dapper gentleman, no doubt. Silk top hat, usually the same she had during her songs with Raps, combined with a crisp white shirt and stiff collar, white bowtie, black coat and tails, pressed black pants, and shiny black shoes complete with a cane. On her lapel was a rose as red as her lips. She would remove the rose during her last song, “These Foolish Things,” a bittersweet number about the everyday things that reminded the singer of their former lover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During her act, Cassandra would strut about on stage with a more ‘manly’ gait, smirking at the audience enraptured by her poise and appearance. She crooned a tune or two, accompanied by some witty remarks and banter that got at least some chuckles and other times full throated laughter. It was a rare moment of Cassandra playing along with the crowd, like letting them in on a secret before teasing them for being so nosy. She would spin, she would cock her hip, she would wink - every action she took revealed a woman dressed as a man and feeling so at ease with herself. But the highlight of her little act was her final number, where she would become a little somber as she lamented her nonexistent lover’s traces and how they pained her so.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A cigarette that bears a lipstick’s traces</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One way ticket to romantic places</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still my heart has wings</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>These foolish things remind me of you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she sang, she pulled the rose from her lapel, brushing it against her cheek, sniffing as she finished her song, looking for a pretty girl toward the front and tossing the rose to her. Every night without fail, she made some woman’s night with that rose. And most nights, the crowd called her back out for an encore. And another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never did she dream of her life leading her to this moment or this type of performance, yet here she was, raking in the adoration and applause. But there was one thing that motivated her to strut and swagger and flirt with the girls in the audience. And it was the girl off to the side of the stage, watching her every move in awe. She knew Rapunzel watched her. Not every night, but most nights she would glance at the side while she walked across and noticed the blonde silently peering out from among the curtains. It made her heart swell each time she saw those emerald green eyes following her movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m doing this for you, Raps. Please notice me. Please…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Every night she silently pleaded that the woman she had come to share a stage with would one day share more. They shared many embraces, many memories, and some secrets. Cassandra had brushed and braided those fine golden locks while Rapunzel had smoothed her black curls. They traded jokes and the occasional cigarette, even though Rapunzel tried not to smoke too much. It drove Cassandra mad when Raps would place her hands on her shoulders, brush her bosom with wandering fingers, or casually touch the small of her back while out walking. Cassandra let down her guard enough to return the touches, savoring the small of Rapunzel’s back and the feeling of their fingers interlocked when they shared some private moments in a park. Nothing intimate occurred between them; she would not dare besmirch Rapunzel’s honor or jeopardize their career. But the more she saw those eyes look her up and down in her tuxedo - and the moments when she had much less on - the more Cassandra wanted to believe that Rapunzel wanted her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By September, she had resolved to make her feelings known to Rapunzel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, this is it,” Cassandra talked to herself in the mirror at her much nicer apartment. It wasn’t luxurious, but it had newer features and was closer to the theater district. As a bit of a star on the vaudeville circuit, Cassandra had sunk some of her higher earnings into a new place. Her small single apartment had become decorated with a few items from her time with Rapunzel: tickets to a circus, empty soda bottles from a drugstore, a photograph from shortly after their debut at The Sundrop and The Moonstone. Her most recent addition was a small bouquet of flowers from a late summer walk through the gardens, sitting in a cute vase that she had received as a gift from Arianna, Rapunzel’s amazing mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is it,” she said again as she finished getting dressed and shook out her arms. “I’m going to tell Raps how I feel about her. I can do this. Just say… just tell her… that I…” But the words faltered on her tongue. She had started to sense their presence in the back of her mind, hiding in the shadows and lurking about in those fitful moments of sleep when images of the golden-haired girl danced through her brain. The words that taunted her every time she felt soft and warm in the light of that infectious smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...that I love her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She said it. Spoke those words aloud for the first time. But only to herself and her reflection. And boy did she look scared. Cassandra had never told anyone in her life that she loved them, certainly not in a romantic way. She had begun to realize that her feelings for women were far stronger than those for men, if she even had any. Rapunzel had wormed her way into her heart, and she could no longer deny that it was love. It terrified her, and she dreaded how Rapunzel might react to such a confession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then she thought back to all those soft glances, those tender touches, the way she held Rapunzel’s attention with her dapper look and husky voice as she hammed it up for the crowd. She took a deep breath, nodded, and strode out of her apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ready for another night of knocking their socks and stockings off?” Rapunzel teased as they set about changing into their usual half formal, half burlesque attire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather have the people keep their socks on so we don’t smell their feet,” Cassandra joked back, earning a giggle from Raps. Hearing such a pleasant sound gave her the boost of courage she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey… Raps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra opened her mouth, closed it, then opened again to speak. “I, uh… there’s something I need to tell you, after the show tonight. When I’m done with my final act, could we have some time alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at Rapunzel, trying hard not to reveal her dread of being turned down. Rapunzel looked a little surprised and perhaps suspicious, but any concerns quickly vanished as she gave a soft smile. “Of course, Cass. Whatever it is, I’d be happy to hear it. Meet you back here or across the way at that little cafe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The cafe sounds nice.” Cassandra wanted to say the dressing room, but she thought it might be better to give herself a couple extra minutes after her last number to compose and get the words right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She danced and sang with great zeal that night, syncing with Raps in perfect harmony. Their banter was on point, their zingers leaving the audience in stitches, and their dancing left them breathless in the best way. They were laughing and smiling as they danced off to the side for their first break, and Cassandra was feeling so confident in herself that she dared to spin Raps around in a little celebratory dance. Everything was going so well. She even let herself laugh at Eugene’s comedy act and remarked that Lance really was quite the talent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon it came time for her big finale. She busied herself with slipping into her tux, ensuring she looked as dapper as ever. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the bowtie in place, and she had to steady herself with a few deep breaths. It wasn’t the routine she was worried about. It was what came after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rapunzel finished her little solo act and giddily announced the show’s final number. “And now! I give you, ladies and gentleman, my partner-in-crime, the most dapper woman ever to walk the streets of Broadway… Your Gentleman of Vaudeville, Cassandra Knight!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stage lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on what appeared to be a handsome gentleman standing slightly left of center stage, head dipped down with the hat covering the eyes. Cassandra lifted her head enough to flash a million dollar smile and a coy wink. The piano struck up a tune, and she set to work. She greeted the crowd, all in the house having gone silent as the most captivating male impersonator in the business took her place center stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, boys and girls. It’s so wonderful to see you all here tonight.” She paused her stride. “Unless you came for the opera, in which case, why the hell are you still here?” A hearty laugh echoed throughout the hall. “But I assume you came here for The Fabulous Sundrop…” She continued to stroll along the stage as the audience applauded. “And of course,” she stopped again and flashed a knowing grin, “Me.” At that, the audience cheered and clapped and stamped their feet. Cassandra whipped off her hat and bowed deeply, then glanced to the side of the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No Rapunzel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was unusual. But she didn’t linger on the thought for more than a second, slipping back into character and singing her first tune. She figured Raps had just decided to head on down and get comfortable sooner, perhaps go ahead and secure a place at the cafe for later. Cassandra smiled as she sang, thinking about the big secret she was about to share with her best friend - no, her love. The woman she hoped would let her in. Want her, like Cass wanted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She got to her closing number, pulled out the rose, sang her sad tune, smelled the sweet fragrance, and tossed it to a girl sitting in the very front row. As the crowd roared and begged for an encore, Cassandra smiled broadly and bowed once, twice, three times. Caught up in the emotions of the moment, she decided that for once, she would not give an encore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was going to tell Rapunzel right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she bade the audience a good night and strode off stage. Her smile still plastered to her face, still sweaty from giving her all, Cassandra felt like she was the luckiest woman in the world. All she needed to do was confess one thing, just one!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached the dressing room she still shared with Rapunzel. She paused, took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Here we go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She opened the door quietly. Had she been focused on her surroundings, she would have heard the noises coming from the room. But as she carefully opened the door, Cassandra’s hearing caught up with her and her ears were met with a loud moan. She looked up and what she saw made the smile vanish completely from her face and left her rooted to the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rapunzel was straddling Eugene’s lap, the man leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed and head tilted back as his hands gently held Rapunzel’s hips. The woman on top was rocking back and forth, her tights completely gone and her bare legs exposed but her coat tails just covering her ass. And she was gasping and moaning, eyes shut as she pressed her hands to Eugene’s chest and rolled her hips, earning a groan from the man beneath her. It was then that Cassandra noticed the pants bunched around Eugene’s ankles… and the fact that Rapunzel was not being led in her actions, but clearly in charge… and loving it…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra suddenly found it hard to breathe. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she took in this grotesque display of pleasure. Somehow, she pulled the door closed and it clicked softly. They had clearly been unaware of the intruder and the sounds behind the door indicated they still did not know Cassandra had seen their obscenity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She staggered forward a step. Then another. Her ears were ringing, her vision becoming blurry. Her costume suddenly became stiflingly hot. She needed air. Now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra struggled to walk out the back exit, pushed past the stage hands who at first offered their congratulations but quieted at the look on her face. She heard none of it. She threw her weight against the door and it banged open, and the night air of the city hit her as she drew in a shaky breath. She had to get away. Anywhere. She looked across the street at the cafe where she was supposed to meet Raps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Rapunzel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rapunzel was the last person she wanted to see right now. She shut her eyes and grit her teeth as the image of Rapunzel moaning with unadulterated pleasure surfaced in her mind. She began walking, striding, barreling down the sidewalk and not caring who she bumped along the way. Blindly heading to her apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cassandra was a storm of emotion. The elation and joy she felt earlier had come crashing down the moment she opened that godforsaken door. Why, WHY did she have to choose tonight to skip the encore? Why couldn’t she have just spent a few more minutes with the people who so clearly adored her? Wanted her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or at least, pretended they wanted her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Rapunzel had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Cassandra did not know whether Rapunzel truly wanted her. But she had seen just enough to confirm the opposite. Maybe? Perhaps Eugene was just that kind of man, seducing a helpless young woman and getting her to do whatever he wanted. And yet, she could tell that he was not forcing himself upon her. If he was, then why did Rapunzel appear to be enjoying herself so much? He seemed at ease, just letting her do whatever…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger surged through Cassandra’s heart, her heart that felt like it was being torn in two. She was angry at Eugene for his stupid pretty boy face and stupid smugness and stupid suave ways. For being the first to Rapunzel. She then felt angry at Rapunzel for allowing her to believe that she even had a chance, for being so casual and close and intimate. Try as she might, the look of those lovely lips parted in erotic bliss seared into her brain, and she growled as she turned a corner, teeth grinding as she gripped her cane so tight she might have broken it were it made of weaker material.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Cassandra was most angry with herself. She was angry for agreeing to do vaudeville with Rapunzel, for ever letting Rapunzel enter her heart and make her lower her walls. She was angry that she dared to hope, to dream, to be foolish enough to think that this silly girl with her sunny smile would ever give a damn about her, the Moonstone, the woman who was snarky and boyish and everything a lady wasn’t supposed to be. How could Rapunzel ever love her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice tried to push back that she was being too hard on herself. Maybe Rapunzel did care. Give her a chance. But that voice was silenced as Cassandra let her rage and hurt and bitterness push her up the stairs to her lonely apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She banged the door open and threw the cane across the room, tossing the hat furiously onto her bed. She was heaving, having stalked all the way from the theater to her place. She ripped her coat off and tossed it onto her bed beside the discarded hat. Pacing back and forth as she tried to calm down, Cassandra suddenly noticed the photograph. The start of their double act that made them famous. She walked over and picked it up. As she looked at the happy faces staring back, tears began to well up in her eyes. Her face contorted with rage as she ripped the photograph in two. In her blind fury, Cassandra took every memento she ever had from Rapunzel and threw it on the floor, shattering the vase, tearing up the flowers, ripping the tickets to shreds, smashing the bottles. And then she screamed. She screwed her eyes shut and screamed like a knife was tearing her heart in two, slowly cleaving its way through before twisting and digging deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell back on the foot of her bed and buried her face in her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp as the tears finally leaked out. Her body heaved with muted sobs, for she would not let herself cry fully. Not even alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she sniffed and roughly wiped her face with her sleeve, Cassandra looked at the wreckage she had made.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>These foolish things remind me of you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How ironic. She laughed bitterly at the idea that Rapunzel ever loved her. Undoing her bowtie, Cassandra glared out the window at the moon. Just as cold and distant as she felt. That’s how she would always be. But she refused to keep following the sun, only ever living in its shadow. And she would not go back to that theater. Or any, ever again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As exhausted as Cassandra was from her full night of vaudeville and her emotional roller coaster, she didn’t want to go to sleep. She needed to leave, tonight. She didn’t care where she went, just as long as she could get as far away from New York City as possible. And so she got up and set to work packing a suitcase or two for a midnight train to anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At a small cafe across the street from the theater, Rapunzel waited for a friend who would never arrive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Late as the night was, Cassandra managed to get to the train station and buy a ticket for an overnight express. She barely paid attention to the destination, only focused on having enough money for the ticket and paying the little man in the booth. Luckily, she had some money saved in her apartment, which should be enough to help her get settled wherever she wound up. She was still in her gentleman’s attire but with an overcoat, and she kept pulling her hat down to hide her face. Once on the train, she shoved her suitcases away and flopped down in her seat. Thankfully, no one else was in the space, so her night would go uninterrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the train began to depart, Cassandra lay back and tried to get comfortable. Her arms crossed over her chest, one thought drifted across her scattered mind as she gradually succumbed to fatigue and drifted off to sleep:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never again would she let herself be vulnerable and fall in love. She couldn’t bear the pain of rejection. Not again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Elsa finally appears, a long overdue conversation is had, and Honeymaren is a lesbian. Just a typical day in Chicago.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chicago, September 1924</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun shone in through the windows of a stately home located in Humboldt Park, a neighborhood on the northwest side of Chicago, home to many Norwegian immigrants. Across the street was the park that gave the neighborhood its name, and just down the street was a Norwegian church designed in the traditional architecture of the ancestral homeland. The house in question was certainly one of the finer buildings in this part of the city, a fitting residence for its primary occupant who now stirred awake as the rays of sunlight illuminated her platinum blonde locks. Sapphire blues eyes slowly opened and blinked, and a young woman sat up, yawning and stretching with a surprising amount of grace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa Arendel, the sole owner of a special business primarily serving the Scandinavian immigrant communities in Chicago and even neighboring states. She was a second generation immigrant, born in Chicago right after the turn of the century, followed by her sister Anna three years later. Her parents, Agnarr and Iduna Arnaldar, had grown up in Norway and intended to marry. Except Iduna was Northuldra, and Agnarr’s father refused to bless the marriage because of his contempt for the indigenous peoples of the region. So they fled on a ship to America, arrived in New York, changed their last name to Arendel during the admittance process, and made their way out west to Chicago, joining thousands of other Scandinavian immigrants in the bustling hub. They settled in and raised their two daughters in a thriving community rich with the traditions of their homeland. Noticing the fondness among his neighbors for the particular drinks of the Old World, Agnarr decided to provide for his family by setting up an import business, bringing in spirits directly from Norway and Sweden. It later expanded to hard cider and even lutefisk, bringing him a reputation among the Norwegians, Danes, and Swedes as a provider of traditional comforts. The family name was well respected among this area of Chicago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, just as Elsa had come of age, her mother and father perished during a foul storm on Lake Superior while on vacation. She was left with the family business to her name, but by then the 18th Amendment had just been ratified, signalling the start of Prohibition. Despite her overwhelming anxiety and grief, Elsa turned all her energies into securing ownership of the business and set out to ensure that she could provide for her sister as well as those who had come to rely on the steady stream of specialty ciders and spirits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Arendel Family Spirits company had made its mark by concentrating on the import of Aquavit, a traditional Scandinavian spirit distilled from grain or potato; glogg, a spiced mulled wine that was perfect for the winter months and popular among the Norwegian and Swedish communities; and a variety of Swedish cider that in time had become known as Arendel Cider. The bottles of cider had been stamped with a crocus, which became a symbol for the business and could be found on all the crates that came through the port of Chicago. Elsa had learned that the shipment of these goods came almost entirely by boat: they were shipped across the Atlantic to New York City, hauled up the Hudson River, shipped west along the Erie Canal which was now replaced by the New York Barge Canal, then down Lake Erie, up through Lake Huron, and finally to Lake Michigan and into Chicago. Upon certifying that Arendel Family Spirits was solely under her control, Elsa set to work figuring out how to effectively smuggle in alcohol. She decided upon concealing the cargo with lutefisk and pickled herring, the latter of which happened to be her favorite dish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took her a couple weeks to work out the system to guarantee the products could be imported under the eyes of federal agents and customs officials, but she was counting on a few factors - namely her ethnic background, which as much as she disliked the reality of it meant that law enforcement would be less skeptical of any illegal activity. She knew that a Scandinavian family was not going to generate scrutiny compared to, say, an Italian family. Another factor that she hoped would work in her favor in the long run was her strict rule about nonviolence among the people in her business. She refused to consider mob tactics and would not engage in turf wars or attempts to intimidate competition by force. It helped admittedly that she largely concentrated on setting up speakeasies and distribution points in the Scandinavian communities and a couple less-violent quarters of Chicago. As an act of generosity and a reflection of her kind heart, Elsa had instituted a policy of hiring more women and people of color for her operations, supporting speakeasies run by women in need of good-paying work and offering employment for black men and women complete with pay much higher than was normal in those days. Due to the specialty nature of her products and the relatively high-paying customers, she could afford to treat her employees generously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She also made one small change to the business branding. The logo had previously been a silhouette of a crocus, but the reality of Prohibition - and the ghosts of her past - forced her to do away with the crocus. After some thought, she settled on the profile of a horse’s head, a reference to a mythical water spirit from Scandinavia that she hoped would symbolize a new era of safeguarding things that were precious in honoring certain traditions. For the last few years, the Nokk had become the symbol of Arendel Family Spirits, gracing the labels of cider bottles and stamped across wooden crates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was this image - and the reason why she chose to adopt it - that filled Elsa’s head this morning as she got out of bed and looked through her window, lost in her thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock on her door interrupted those thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened to reveal Honeymaren Nattura, her closest friend and logistical coordinator. And part time bodyguard. “Morning, boss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa smiled and shook her head. “Maren, how many times must I tell you, it’s perfectly okay to call me by my name when we’re alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren shrugged. “Old habits, I guess. Just wanted to check on you. I know you’ve been working late into the night again despite my constant reminders that you stop doing that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I slept just fine, thank you,” Elsa huffed, walking over to pull out a casual dress for the day. As she stepped behind the curtain to change, she added, “Oh, and tell Anna I would like to speak with her over breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t you do that yourself?” Honeymaren asked, arms folded over her chest and one eyebrow raised skeptically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa peeked out from around the curtain. “You know how bad Anna is in the morning. I’d rather you spent the next half hour dragging her out of bed than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren rolled her eyes. “I’ll get on it.” Then she turned and left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once properly dressed, Elsa stepped out from behind the curtain and sat down by her vanity to brush her hair. She pondered how best to broach the topic bugging her this morning. It was a conversation that was long overdue…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, as she sipped her tea at the table and read over the morning paper, Elsa heard the distinct sound of her sister shuffling into the dining room. She looked up to see Anna, still in her nightgown and hair somewhat tamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmmorning,” the redhead yawned as she approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning to you, sleepyhead,” Elsa teased softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna stuck out her tongue as she sat down and reached for the coffee pot. “What’s the reason for getting me up early anyhow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First, it’s 9 o’clock on a Wednesday, so that’s hardly early,” Elsa said matter-of-factly, “and second, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After taking a big gulp of coffee, Anna fixed her elder sister with a bewildered look. “Really? After five years of saying you’re too busy with business to want to spend time with your only family left, you want to talk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anna, please,” Elsa sighed, looking at her sister apologetically. “This is important.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well it better be,” Anna retorted as she grabbed a piece of toast and some fruit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa closed her eyes, took a few breaths to steady her nerves, then said quietly, “It’s about Father.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Elsa was done speaking, Anna could only stare wide-eyed at her. She didn’t want to believe it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So…” she began, trying to figure out what to say next, “is that why you changed the image on the crates? That’s the reason why our logo is now the Nokk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa nodded. “I just… I wanted a change. About a year in, I realized that the logo might tip off any agents looking to catch our shipments if they knew about our family business history. So it made sense to change the image to something rather different. But… yes, it was also to distance myself - distance us - from what he wanted.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna placed her hand over Elsa’s. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But why didn’t you just tell me? Why wait all these years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I didn’t want you to get involved, Anna,” Elsa turned to look Anna right in the eye and nearly looked away at the pain evident in those turquoise eyes. “You have always been such a carefree and wild spirit. You never seemed to have much interest in the family business, so I accepted that I would bear the responsibility so that you could live your life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Elsa,” Anna protested, getting out of her chair to kneel before her sister and taking both pale smooth hands in hers, “this is OUR family business. It’s as much my legacy as it is yours. I’m not saying I want to be on the ground overseeing shipments or handling the money, but you don’t have to keep shutting me out. Please, just let me be there for you. I don’t want to lose you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking into those earnest eyes full of sincerity, Elsa felt her walls crumble. Walls she had built up over the years to keep others out, to put on a facade for the sake of the family business. Walls that would still be raised when dealing with a lot of people in her life, but not Anna. Not anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned forward and met Anna’s embrace. After the prolonged hug, she carefully helped them both stand and clasped Anna’s hands. “I’m so sorry, for everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay, you were just doing what you thought best,” Anna said, impossibly understanding. “But I don’t want you to lose sight of yourself and become something you’re not supposed to be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to keep running this business. It’s the only way we can ensure our future as a family. To keep living this way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna stepped forward and wrapped Elsa in another hug. “I know. I’m just saying it’s not too late to let someone else in. You deserve to experience life in other ways, Elsa. I’ve seen you get burned out over paperwork and managing the smallest details.” She stepped back and held Elsa by the shoulders. “But you’ve got Honeymaren and Ryder and Kristoff! And a whole organization that clearly is doing a good job providing service to those who have counted on us!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth of Anna’s words left a teary smile on Elsa’s face. She brushed her cheek with her hand and said quietly, “I just wish he would have been proud of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna sombered for a moment, then said, “Well, I’m sure Mother is. She always saw the best in you and clearly believed you were fit to take over.” She had not forgotten that crucial piece of Elsa’s revelation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa laughed and stroked Anna’s cheek. “Thank you. How about after breakfast, we go for a walk in the park? I could use some fresh air.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely! But only if we get some ice cream too!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anna was the sister who could never turn down sugary sweets, though her big sister had quite the sweet tooth of her own. And who was Elsa to deny what her sister wanted? She had five years of closed doors and “Go away, Anna”s to make up for, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Anna playing with the children in the park left Elsa smiling and feeling at ease. She was perfectly content to sit off to the side on a bench, enjoying the ice cream she got for herself. Anna’s ice cream was long gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren, dressed in a casual suit and shirt with the top button undone, approached with a handmade violet flower and bowed. “A rare flower for an even rarer lady.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa laughed with a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Maren, you shouldn’t have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I needed to. Not the right time of year for violets to bloom so I went and made one for you.” She carefully tucked the flower in Elsa’s hair just over her ear and sat beside her boss and longtime friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren and Ryder Nattura were twins of Northuldra descent, just like Iduna, and a year older than Elsa. When they were kids, one day they were playing around in a Norwegian port town and wound up on a boat. Stopping to take a nap, they later woke up far out to sea, with no identification, no belongings, and no way to get back home. The ship was one filled with immigrants to America, so when they arrived in New York City, the Nattura twins did their best to make sense of this strange land and assimilate. Unfortunately, their foreignness combined with their slightly darker skin made them stand out among the crowds of immigrants flooding the city. Some mistook them for Southern European, while the more ignorant fools thought they were African. Life was rough as they struggled to survive, eventually hopping across trains headed west and winding up in Chicago, where they had heard of other Scandinavians laying down roots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was there that the Nattura twins met the Arendel family. At first being considered for an orphanage in the Humboldt Park area among people of close though not identical ancestry, Iduna stepped in and promised to provide for them. Honeymaren and Ryder were not considered siblings or step siblings to the two young girls living in the Arendel home, but they were quite close. It was then that Honeymaren began to realize that her feelings for Elsa were not sisterhood or anything platonic, but romantic. During their teenage years, Honeymaren regularly gave Elsa violets every spring as a symbol of her interest in the blonde girl. In time, Elsa realized the meaning of the gesture and her own feelings for Honeymaren - and women in general.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When her parents died, Elsa had sought comfort from Anna as well as Honeymaren, but the necessity of business cut short any mourning. She decided to make Honeymaren her de facto bodyguard due to her physical prowess and clear willingness to stand up for Elsa. The spring after the passing of her parents, Elsa accepted another bouquet of violets yet confessed tearfully that while she loved Honeymaren, she did not reciprocate the feelings she believed the dark haired woman had. Honeymaren was a little heartbroken, but she respected Elsa and swore that she would always be there as a friend. They shared a hug and even a chaste kiss, the first time Elsa had ever kissed a woman. And she liked it. But deep down, she just wasn’t ready.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back to the present, Elsa touched the handcrafted violet in her hair. “I noticed you still give me violets every year,” she said softly so that no one else could hear but the two women on the park bench.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like me to stop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Honeymaren exhaled in relief, “because I do love you, Elsa. You are without a doubt the most stunning, brilliant woman I have ever met, and I’m just happy to be your friend and partner-in-crime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at that. “Literally partners-in-crime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren returned the smirk. “It’s all fun and games until we get caught.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They laughed and Honeymaren stretched an arm out behind Elsa, resting on the back of the bench so as not to encroach on Elsa’s space too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She noticed a look on Elsa’s face. It was that face she made every time something was bothering her. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just…” Elsa sighed, “I wonder if I made a mistake. This business, my sister, even you. I gave up so much just to try and carry on our legacy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you haven’t,” Honeymaren countered. “You still have Anna, and us. Sure, you may have closed in on yourself for four or five years, but I get it. You were under so much pressure. I’m just glad you didn’t shut down entirely - or give up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa smiled gratefully at her. “We could have been something, huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren couldn’t resist holding back her own sympathetic look. “Yes, we could have been. But it has become clear to me that you need someone else to fulfill that role in your life. And I am happy to make that a reality.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa looked down at her lap and said quietly, “I don’t know if that’s possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honeymaren scooted closer and gently squeezed Elsa’s shoulder. “You WILL find someone, Elsa. You deserve a chance at romance, to be loved for who you are, not just your money. I have no doubt there is a handsome woman somewhere out there who will win your heart and give you exactly what you need. Trust me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was these moments that reminded Elsa why she loved her friend so much. Her warmth, her compassion, her willingness to help, her steadfast loyalty. As much as she wanted to say that such dreams of finding romantic love were for Anna, not her, Elsa decided to accept that maybe, just maybe, Honeymaren had a point. She glanced up to ensure that no one was nearby to chastise her for what she was about to do. Seeing that they were very much left alone, Elsa gave another smile and kissed Honeymaren on the cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose time will tell, my Honey bear.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now that our Ice Queen has made her appearance, the story will really get going! As mentioned before, the time skips will slow down and the story will remain focused in Chicago, provided these lesbians don't have other plans.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cassandra struggle bus!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chicago, November 1924</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was the week of Thanksgiving, a time for many to celebrate with feasts and family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra had neither of those things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was stuck spending her Monday evening at the precinct, glaring at yet another police report as she made a note of the record before filing it away. She trudged back to her desk and flopped down into her chair, sighing heavily as she took in the additional paperwork she still had to complete.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A glance at the clock on the wall. 5:37pm. Normally, it would be past time to leave. But in the field of law enforcement, crime never stopped. Especially in a city like Chicago, which Cassandra had come to learn fairly quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Groaning, she propped her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands, questioning yet again what in the name of all that was holy and unholy had brought her here. She knew the answer, and it still didn’t come to her mind without her heart twinging at the memories.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Cassandra had arrived in Chicago two months ago on that overnight train, she awoke to a bustling city with a different vibe than the metropolis she had fled the night before. As soon as she made her way through the station, a horrible sinking feeling had taken root in the pit of her stomach. What had she done? What was she even doing? Halfway across the country in a showman’s attire, though she could easily pass for any esteemed gentleman on the way to a fancy club. With only two small suitcases of clothes and essentials and just enough cash to rent a new apartment and maybe buy some food. Had she gone mad?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra was sorely tempted to turn right back around and catch the next train to New York. She could make it back later that day, surely. Perhaps return to her old flat and get things in order before returning to…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She couldn’t. She had sworn never to go back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stiffened her back and marched out of the station, trying her best to put on a confident air to cover the storm of emotions brewing inside. After a few inquiries, she made her way to a set of apartments along Grand Avenue, which she found ironic because despite how dapper she still looked, she felt anything but grand. Even less so when she saw the small and shabby apartment that she wound up renting. For the briefest moment, she wished to run back to the station and return to New York to her old place; she did still have a lease after all. But going back east would mean having to confront everything else, and she was trying to move past that. So why was this so hard?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She set to work unpacking her belongings and getting acquainted with her new surroundings. The building sat at the intersection of Grand Avenue and Milwaukee Avenue, not far from the Chicago River. At least she would be close to the action, seeing as the neighborhood was in the central part of the city. She took off her hat and coat, got into more comfortable slacks and a shirt, then sat down on her questionable bed and sighed. She had no mementos from her time on vaudeville aside from the fancy attire, and at this point she wanted to just stop thinking about it. Except she couldn’t. She had thrown her life into the work. And then she just gave it up all so easily. Running a hand through her hair, Cassandra glanced one more time at the outfit, then made a choice. She would sell it for whatever she could get. A little spending money wouldn’t hurt. No one would ever see her in such a costume again anyhow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she sold the tux and settled into her new home, Cassandra set to work figuring out how to make her way in the city. She needed a job, and she would be damned if she went back to working in some factory or trying to land a gig at a local theater.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>About a week into her arrival, having spent all the money she had brought, Cassandra noticed an advertisement for a clerk position at the police precinct on the western end of the avenue. She didn’t know much if anything about law enforcement, but if the job promised her steady work and as little contact with people as possible, then she would take it. She went in dressed in her usual trousers and shirt with suspenders, forcing herself not to make a scene when the man she spoke to seemed incredulous that any self-respecting woman would walk in looking like that. She really had to bite her tongue as she noticed the looks from the handful of women that were either working there already or waiting for someone to help them. Thankfully, when she spoke to the Captain, he was much less interested in a lady’s appearance and more in her willingness to do brutally boring work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain was a good bit taller than Cassandra, his mustache sharp and conveying a no-nonsense attitude. Good. She could use a little change of pace in her work environment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you want to work as a clerk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.” She sat upright and held eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “Have you had any clerical experience before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra had to think for a moment. “I once did work as a bookkeeper in a store back in New York.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm… and recently?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I was an artist of sorts. But I needed a change.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain stroked his chin before asking, “And you decided that coming out here to work for the police was the best you could do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I needed a change,” Cassandra repeated, her voice firm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain seemed to take the hint that the details of her more recent pursuits were not up for discussion. Sitting back, he continued, “Well, Ms. Knight, what we need is someone to assist with paperwork filing, as well as certifying that the records we have are all in order. Things are getting crazy here in Chicago, and this area in particular is starting to see a rise in criminal activity. Not that you’ll be seeing any action, hopefully.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra simply nodded. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. I can assure you, I’m willing to put in the work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you will start tomorrow morning, 9 o’clock sharp,” the Captain replied as he stood and showed her the door. “And I hope you will be fine with working late hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me, I’m used to pulling late nights,” Cassandra said as she left the office, getting a quick glance of the other people at the precinct. For some reason, she felt suspicious of the men milling around looking her way or whispering as she passed. She would later realize that roughly half the men were taking payments from bootleggers while the other half were just bad at being cops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The perk of her job was that she stayed inside and did her tasks in whatever outfit suited her. That meant trousers and suspenders along with a button up shirt. Every time someone remarked that she should go out and buy some dresses, she snapped back about focusing on catching criminals instead of worrying about what covered her crotch. Within two weeks, Cassandra had made it known that she was not to be messed with. At least none of the men made any suggestive moves around her, and the one idiot that tried to flirt was met with a stack of papers to the face, leading to a stern reprimand from the Captain but followed by a private admission that she was perfectly justified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The work itself was tedious. Paperwork, filing, verifying signatures were in the right places and stamps were here and there. Some days were spent sitting at her desk waiting around, others swamped with documents to be reviewed and filed. She knew the pay was not any better than what she made in vaudeville, and it stung to think that she had moved down in her career. Going from the lights of Tin Pan Alley and the allure of Broadway to being chained to a desk at a police station in the Windy City.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every time her mind drifted back to the theater and vaudeville, she remembered exactly why she had come to Chicago. She would close her eyes and grimace as images of lust and desire appeared unwanted in her mind. She ground her teeth as the sounds of Rapunzel’s voice echoed in her ears, combined with what sounded like the laughter of the crowds in the theater. But they weren’t laughing with Cassandra, not with the Moonstone. They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing at her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Laughing at the fool who dared to believe that this silly little blond girl could possibly love her. And why would she? Rapunzel had a handsome man by her side, with his infuriating smile and stupid good looks. She could hear his smug voice as it drawled about how wonderful Rapunzel was in every way, and Rapunzel just… laughed. She laughed at his dumb jokes, laughed as she bounced around while her partial tuxedo vanished into thin air, and Cassandra felt like she was an accidental voyeur wanting to be anywhere but here. Suddenly she spun around and found herself naked on the stage, with everyone in the audience roaring with laughter at how ridiculous she looked. She tried in vain to recover her modesty, frantically searching for her tuxedo, her pants, anything. And then she was out on the street, clothed but clearly destitute. As she looked up, she saw an advertisement for The Sundrop, but there was no Moonstone. She had ceased to exist. She was a nobody, once again. And somewhere on the cold night air, a voice taunted her: “Oh, Cassandra, if only there was someone out there who loved you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a start, Cassandra awoke. She had fallen asleep at her desk. It wasn’t the first time. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. 6:49pm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Deciding she wasn’t going to be any more productive tonight, Cassandra stood up and stretched, tidying up the papers before leaving the precinct for her humble abode. She jammed her hands into her coat pockets and braced herself against the chilly wind. She would need to seriously invest in some good winter attire, and soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey doll, where ya off to in such a hurry?” A man staggered out in front of Cassandra, attempting to block her route along the side of the street. She grit her teeth and kept moving forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the rush, babe? You got some place to be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Home.” She didn’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact, but that did not deter the unwelcome man from walking alongside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, lemme hike witcha then. Ain’t no sense in a pretty face like yours bein’ all alone in this city.” The man grasped her forearm, and Cassandra stiffened for half a second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she struck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her free arm, she swung hard and clocked the offending man right in the face before jerking her other arm down and out of his grip, then giving a hard shove with her shoulder into the man’s groin. That sent him tumbling onto the pavement. Two of his buddies stood nearby, mouths agape as they watched the scene unfold. They looked to their pal on the ground as he grumbled and slowly got back up, then to the woman who was standing in a defensive crouch, fists raised and a murderous look on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone else?!” she challenged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The men said nothing, merely stumbling backward a few steps before taking off up the street. Cassandra spat on the ground before adjusting her coat and resuming her walk home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sadly, she was all too familiar with men like him. Men who thought they were entitled to a woman’s attention and affections. Men who didn’t seem to take no for an answer. Not that Cassandra was ever violated - oh no, she had long ago learned how to ensure that wouldn’t happen. As a teenager with a rebelliousness uncommon for girls of her time, she had discovered that there were two ways to get boys or men not to bother you: look as hideous as possible, or learn to fight back. The latter turned out to be more appealing for Cassandra, as it meant she could take out her anger and frustration with her fists and a few good kicks, and she expected her unladylike choice of attire to take care of the rest. Unfortunately, some men seemed to look past her more mannish looks and try their luck - with painful results. The worst that happened was one time back in New York when three men tried to restrain her, one for each arm while the other went for her legs. Somehow she managed to kick the one man off; swung her feet at knees or groins, whichever one she could strike; and ended up breaking a wooden crate over one poor fool’s head, causing them to finally scatter. For her efforts, she was marked with a cut to her cheek, bruises along her arms and her right side, scratches on her hands, and another shirt she would have to stitch up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, this altercation was far less painful for her. She rubbed the back of her neck as she entered her shabby apartment, groaning softly and removing her coat. The incident had left her blood boiling and she was now restless, so she stripped to her underclothes - a sleeveless undershirt and boxers - and began her second workout routine of the day. Pushups on the hard floor, huffing as she dropped then pushed back up. And again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there was one thing she missed about vaudeville, it was the exercise. Cassandra had to stay in top shape to perform the dances and choreography on stage night after night, as well as to sing like she did. She had developed some routines before the jump to vaudeville just to work on her strength and fitness, then new ones for the theater. Now that there was no theater, she needed to keep up her physical shape. But she also needed a distraction from getting bored or lonely in her apartment, so throwing her energy into exercising was her best option. She started every morning with a series of sets, with the whole regime lasting about 30 to 45 minutes depending on her mood. Some days, like today, she would do an additional series to unwind or to provide further distraction. But the longer she had spent in Chicago, and the more she worked on her physical fitness, the more she wondered if she could make a slight change to her career status.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And as she went to prepare dinner, sweaty and panting, Cassandra decided that if she wanted to do more with her life, she would have to reach out and grab for it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tuesday morning, she marched into the precinct and straight for the Captain’s office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, I have a request to make.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain looked up, eyeing her skeptically. “Does it involve one of my men?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sir, but it’s a sensitive matter that I would prefer no one else hears.” Cassandra had to lower her voice a little so it didn’t carry too much. What she was about to say really didn’t need to be heard by anyone else, especially since she had begun to suspect a handful of the officers out there would sabotage what she had in mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close the door, then.” And she did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain gestured for her to take a seat, and he waited.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra took a deep breath and said, “I want to take on extra work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem busy enough as it is,” the Captain interjected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir. But this is… not clerical related.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything, merely raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Cassandra’s stomach was in a knot. She was really going off the deep end here, probably in way over her head. But it was her chance to prove herself as far as she was concerned. For some reason, she had this burning desire to not only do more with her time, but show that she was more than just office help. Perhaps it was her bruised pride from being rejected back in New York that spurred her to make this decision. Whatever it was, she continued, “I want to do some investigative work for any illegal joints in the area. Try and uncover a speakeasy, if you will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm…” the Captain stroked his chin as he thought. “So, you want to be a detective?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause filled the air. Cassandra could feel a bead of sweat running down her back. Just what she feared - asking too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain stood from behind his desk and walked around to take a seat on the corner. “If I may, Cassandra…” That took her by surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He never calls me by my first name.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Definitely something different in his tone. To be fair, she did consider him like a father figure; was he acting that out now? “I appreciate your willingness to step up, but I just don’t think this is the best use of your time or abilities. You have only been here for two months, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra felt her jaw clench at that. Sure, she wasn’t a trained cop, but judging by the effort - or lack thereof - from the men outside the office and the ones she saw on the streets, she reckoned she could do their jobs just as well. And she definitely did not like the implication that she was unqualified. She was determined to prove otherwise, just like all the times before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, with all due respect, in the two months I have been here I have learned my way around pretty quickly. I know what it’s like to live in less than admirable conditions and how to navigate the seedy parts of town. As a woman…” she sighed at having to play the gender card but continued, “I can snoop around without drawing too much attention, and if anything should happen to me, I assure you I can fend for myself just fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain seemed to take all this into consideration, yet he wasn’t fully convinced. “Well, you already have a full time job here, and I’m not sure we really have room to add another detective. I could try and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll do it off the books.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paused, looking at her with wide eyes. Cassandra’s face nearly matched his surprise. She didn’t know why she said it, but the more her remark sank in, the more she realized it actually wasn’t that bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, I mean no insult to your men but I fear that if I was promoted to a detective, then word might get out about my intentions and interfere with any attempts on my part to apprehend any criminals. It would be better for me to remain a clerk but do my investigations when I’m not working.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to work extra time? Evenings and weekends without the pay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cassandra wanted so badly to say no, but the answer that came out was, “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain glanced away and sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll take your offer into consideration and let you know after this week. If you still want to do the work of a detective off the books, then you will report only to me with what you find and no one else. Your task will solely be to find any illicit establishments in violation of the ban on alcohol distribution and report back. You will still be expected to show up and do your work here as normal. Are we clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As unfavorable as the situation was, Cassandra couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride that she might actually get to do more. That she could prove her worth and maybe get a better position if she were able to bust a speakeasy - or maybe bigger. But one step at a time. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch up in a smile and replied, “Crystal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thanksgiving Day, Arendel Mansion</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Elsa! They’re arriving!” Anna cried excitedly as she slid down the banister all the way to the foyer. She always loved doing that, no matter how many times her sister or the household staff would admonish her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kai, the family butler, was at the door greeting a couple who had been invited for dinner. A black man and woman, slightly more than middle aged but in good spirits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mattias! Halima!” Anna flung her arms around them both. “Thanks for stopping by. I’m so glad you could make it for dinner!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We couldn’t resist the invitation,” Mattias said as he gave Kai their coats. “Your sister has done so much for us, and it’s the least we can do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is that lovely young lady?” Halima asked. “The one with the twin brother your family took in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She is doing just fine, thank you,” Honeymaren replied as she came down the stairs dressed in a smart brown suit, with Elsa right behind her in a beautiful purple dress that hung just off her shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, there they are,” Mattias greeted them warmly. Hugs were exchanged and more thanks were given to the host of this holiday dinner. Elsa led them into the dining room where Gerda, the family cook, was just finishing the last touches of the feast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My, my. You certainly know how to put together a feast, Miss Elsa,” Mattias remarked as he took in the sight of all the food spread across the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gerda has been quite busy preparing it all,” Elsa elaborated. “I merely made the requests and provided the money to purchase what was necessary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still, it was mighty generous of you to have this feast and invite us into your home,” Mattias replied as Ryder and Kristoff joined the party and they all took their seats around the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What took you so long?” Anna said in a hushed voice as Kristoff sat beside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got held up with a last-minute delivery,” Kristoff whispered back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And some bad traffic for some reason,” Ryder added from across the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing too serious, I hope?” Mattias asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I know my brother,” Honeymaren jumped in, “he’s done a fine job in making sure the ci-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are not discussing business at the table.” Elsa’s voice was firm as she cut off the conversation. Everyone looked at her as if they had just remembered who was the Boss here. After a moment of silence, Elsa smiled softly and continued, “Besides, as my sister can attest, I am overworked enough as it is, and I believe today should be about good food and friends. So let us focus on that.” She raised her glass for a toast which was heartily received.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as Elsa took a sip, her overactive brain made a note to follow up on the delivery and make sure everything arrived in good condition. Especially the pickled herring. She would be heartbroken if her favorite dish didn’t make the journey.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the delay! This next part of the story will be a little tricky so I don't know how quickly I can work through it. But I promise I'll update as soon as possible.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh look, an update! Apologies for the delay; things are about to get more interesting, so hold on. ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Chicago, February 1925</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking back, the biggest regret Cassandra had about her proposal to do off-the-books detective work for the precinct was that she picked the end of autumn to start, meaning that when the Captain gave his approval after Thanksgiving, she learned the hard way about winter in Chicago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her meager salary went to investing in some sturdier, heavier clothing to ward off the wicked wind chills coming off the lake. She even got a cap to keep her head warm and to make herself as gender neutral as possible to any passersby. Whatever she had left from her hours at the precinct went to heating and food, both of which were sweet relief every night she came home from another unproductive stretch of walking the streets and looking for any signs of illicit activity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As agreed in their arrangement, Cassandra would give a report to the Captain whenever she came in to work after a stint wandering the streets. These were usually short as she had nothing to report most days. And the few times she had something, it turned out to be nothing at all or some cop was already on it. Cassandra hated spending the days around Christmas alone and cold, but it was either try to find something - anything - to improve her abysmal career prospects or sit at her desk and just push paper. No way in hell was she going back to New York.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By January, she had ruled out investigating the neighborhoods near her apartment and around the Loop; she realized that those areas were already crawling with cops, whether crooked or not, and any bootlegging was harder to find. She decided to try looking in an area that seemed a little more safe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Humboldt Park.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From what Cassandra had gathered, the Scandinavian section of the city tended to be fairly calm and not a hotbed of criminal activity, unlike neighborhoods like Cicero. But her time in Chicago was teaching her that crime was everywhere and few could be trusted. She certainly had little trust in the police she worked for aside from the Captain. Besides, if she could find a joint in an area where no one was looking, it would look even more impressive and get her a promotion. So what was the harm in checking out the neighborhood?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was February, and still just as cold as it had been the last two months. Cassandra stamped her feet in place for some warmth as she remained largely hidden in a side alley. While she had considered buying herself some cigarettes for something to do during her stakeouts as well as providing a source of warmth, the idea of exposing her gloved hands to the bitter cold was not appealing. That was before she had come across this particular spot and decided to come back two more times. Now she had a ciggy in hand, and she took a long drag before exhaling and looking out across the deserted street. She stood near the intersection of West Chicago Avenue and South Christiana Avenue. Currently on the north side of the east-west street, she had in her line of sight a Norwegian-style church. This was her latest target, and she felt it might be promising.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that she knew anything about architecture, but she had gathered that this building was in the style of traditional Norwegian stave churches from the ancestral homeland. It also functioned as a cultural center for Scandinavian immigrants when it wasn’t being used for religious purposes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a couple weeks scoping the neighborhood and coming back to this location, Cassandra believed it definitely was covering something that wasn’t religious. She had noticed the other night a fair amount of traffic coming and going near here, and after looking around for the next few nights reasoned that this church had to be the destination, or a waypoint. Either way, she had a hunch and was going to see it through. No other ‘leads’ had been promising.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a Saturday evening. As badly as Cassandra wished to be in her small apartment making dinner, she stood there huffing her cigarette and waiting for something… anything…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, a truck rumbled down the street and stopped just in front of the church. Cassandra shrank back into the alleyway to avoid being seen, watching as two burly men unloaded some crates and carried them into a place she couldn’t quite see. But she could tell it was beneath the church.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever is in those crates, I doubt it’s sacramental wine.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as soon as they had arrived, the men left in their now empty truck. Cassandra decided to wait around a little longer and see if anything more promising might occur. After an hour she moved out from her spot and began to walk around the church, casually glancing around for other people but mainly looking for any signs of what might be underneath. Perhaps it was just a basement and the men were delivering material for the clergy. But there had been a few dozen crates in that truck. And Cassandra swore she had caught an image on the side of one of them: a horse head, though it was hard to tell from a distance and the style was very artistic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she walked around the other side, she saw a small walkway leading below street level and a door. A door with a slot for someone to peek out. And a symbol that at first glance looked like a snowflake, but upon closer examination Cassandra realized it was more like a compass. Except it had odd symbols enclosed in diamond shapes - or crystals? Was this some sort of Nordic tradition or spiritual thing?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of laughter made Cassandra jump. Someone was approaching, and it was a woman who sounded like she had a man with her. Frantically, Cassandra looked around and sprinted for the cover of a nearby flower bush, part of a small garden adjacent to the church. Peeking out cautiously from around the bush, she spotted a woman with vivid red hair approaching, accompanied by a man with black hair and a clean shaven face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did I tell you? Cute, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s just get inside and warm up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman walked up to the door and knocked a peculiar rhythm: </span>
  <em>
    <span>knock knock knock-knock knock.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then the slot in the door opened and Cassandra heard an older woman’s voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let the storm rage on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The redhead replied, “The cold never bothered me anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A password. Odd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once the door opened just enough to let the couple in and had closed, accompanied by the sound of a bolt locking in place, Cassandra turned back and grinned. <em>Jackpot.</em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, Ms. Knight. Do you have something to report?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do.” Cassandra closed the door before responding, then quickly sat down before the Captain’s desk. “I may have a lead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a location I’ve been looking at near Humboldt Park. I believe I know where a speakeasy is, but I need some more time to be sure.” While technically she should divulge everything she had learned, Cassandra wasn’t ready. Something else had crossed her mind after finding out the secret beneath that church.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Captain narrowed his eyes, but after a moment’s reflection he sighed and said, “Very well. Keep up the good work, Cassandra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir.” Cassandra tried to keep a straight face as she left his office. It hurt a little to lie - well, it wasn’t a total lie. She did need more time to make sure this was a speakeasy she had found. But even more important, she had decided to investigate the joint herself should her hunch be correct. Yes, it went against the Captain’s orders, but given her low trust in the other officers at the precinct she did not want to blow this opportunity. For all she knew, a raid could go badly if done by crooked cops and she could wind up taking the fall. Better for her to do the actual work of scoping out the place and finding out what she could. Perhaps, if she was lucky and smart enough, she could even uncover a whole operation. That would surely give her a more stable career path and get her life in order. She just had to stay one step ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If only she had been more aware of her surroundings that night…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re sure you saw someone, Yelena?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Without question. They didn’t have a uniform or anything, but they were walking around the church as if they were looking for something, and I doubt it was a priest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it was a random person out for an evening walk just admiring the building.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maren, you know better than to assume such things. In the line of work you’re in…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I know. I just don’t like the idea of having to tell the boss about this. She has enough to deal with as it is, and we don’t need to worry about cops having found our main joint.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Much to Honeymaren’s surprise, Elsa did not freak out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I appreciate Yelena bringing this to our attention. But we do not have enough information at this point to assume anything. We do need to be careful, but I say we keep this quiet and see how it goes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what if this person is a copper?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Elsa set her clasped hands down on her desk. “Then we will deal with that when the time comes.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Moving forward, there won't be any more drastic time skips. The story will be progressing more on a month-by-month or shorter basis. Thanks for sticking around this far; we'll be getting into the good stuff now!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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